Alternate Changes
by BadMomma
Summary: YAOI: Companion piece to Changes. Told from the other POV.


Alternate Changes

By Badmomma

Pairing 1&2, After-series, Heero POV, Companion to "Changes"

Disclaimer: Alas, they are not mine.

**Alternate Changes**

The building I enter looks no different on the inside than the few others like it I've seen. There's a long corridor, a brightly lit area with badly laid floor tiles and a wall of reflective glass separating and concealing the entertainment from the public entrance. Right by that wall of glass there's a booth where a rotund, greasy haired man sits watching. I walk up to him and reach for my wallet, having to push the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder again, wishing once more I'd managed to catch an earlier flight. If I've missed him, I will be sorely disappointed.

"You here for one of the parties?" he asks. The too soft voice does not match his girth. Since they're not expecting me, I can only guess I don't fit the profile of their regular customers.

I flash him my ID, "The Merquise party. Yes." His raised eyebrows indicate that they mustn't deal with names much here, "Tall, long blond hair?"

At that he nods and juts his chin at me, "Can't take the bag in." He hands me a claim card in exchange for my shoulder bag, then motions with a strange looking pen that I should offer my hand to be marked. My brief concern that what he writes might be offensive or incriminating is overcome by my curiosity, and he answers my unspoken question. "It's iridescent. More discreet." He flashes me a toothy leer and presses the release for the latch on the door. "Enjoy your visit." I step through the door into a different world.

It's not what I'd expected and definitely not what I'm used to. The closed, smoky feel of the place completely contradicts the outer room. There are tables as far as the eye can see: many square, 4-man tables in a loose configuration; a few larger, rectangular tables adjacent and perpendicular to the stage itself accommodate larger groups. The music is loud, but not overly so; though after a few hours it might grate on anyone's nerves. The lighting is low - dark but subtly so, not so that you can't see to make your way to the bathroom. Or find someone - which is what I'm here for.

I take a few steps to the side – away from the doorway and its overhead light – and busy myself with the mundane while trying to reassure myself that this is the right thing to do. I pocket the claim card for my bag, put away my change from the taxi driver, take the sunglasses out of my hair and hook them in the pocket of my shirt, wonder if Duo will even speak to me when I see him.

What if my lack of contact these last few months has soured him to my presence? What if my leaving without any explanation sat badly with him? What if what we did means nothing to him - just a one night stand between old friends; something to be forgotten, not spoken of? What if an occasional liaison is all he wants? Or worse yet, what if he's come to regret it?

That last thought makes me huddle a little farther into the dark, farther from the bright entrance. The questions and their answers run circles in my mind, laying out multiple outcomes to each possible scenario. Not all the results are bad, the best of them have him greeting me with a welcoming – perhaps intimate – hug, the promise of more to come. The bad ones I try to ignore, the least of which include a drink in the face and foul words.

From my position on the outskirts of the room, I fully take in the lay of the land, identifying two distinct groups of partiers and several stragglers at outlying tables. The two groups are relatively large and huddled closely around their designated spots, and despite Zechs' rather noticeable features, I can't immediately tell which one is his party. I watch them and continue to wonder at my actions. Both now and all that time ago.

My attraction to Duo had grown quietly and steadily over the years, so much so that I can't begin to explain – even to myself – what made me react to him the way I did all those months ago. That visit had been like so many before it; we'd done no more and no less than we usually did together. The nights had been spent pleasantly; cooking and eating together, catching up on the happenings in our lives, complaining about the less appealing aspects of our jobs, watching TV, playing peanut-stakes black-jack and eating away at our winnings until we were both too tired to count properly. And yet, in my moments alone, I'd done things that I'd never done before.

Twice, over the course of those fateful days, I'd masturbated in his shower to thoughts of him; picturing things I'd never seen or done. On another occasion, I'd avidly watched him strip down while changing clothes through a gap in his bedroom door – it had been unplanned, but not unintentional. Knowing full well what he was doing, I'd stepped into the hallway to ask him a question, and when I'd seen the door to his room ajar, I had consciously refused to turn away from the sight.

Loud laughter and whooping turn my sights outward again, finally allowing me to identify which party I should be concentrating on. Zechs Merquise looms over his fellow revelers, motioning for quiet around him. While I am too far to tell what he is saying - even I cannot read lips at this distance in such low light - I think I get the gist of it. He raises a glass in honor of his companions, saying a few words that bring more laughter and teasing. He then motions around the club itself, commenting as he does so. He points to the stage beside him, the archway that leads to private rooms, and finally across the club to an area obscured from my current view. This last site garners more laughter, I can only assume the restrooms are there as a few of the party-goers make retching motions and others make lewder ones. All the while, I search the group for Duo. He is definitely not among the men whose backs are to me, as none have long hair, and yet as I catch glimpses of the others, I still do not see him. I begin to lose hope that I will find him here and it is almost too much to bear.

I am weary and frustrated that I've spent the last hour seemingly chasing a ghost. I feel like the clock is ticking on a last chance to salvage what could be between us. I need to be able to see his face and gage his reaction to me, in the flesh, not through some miracle of modern science. But most of all I am scared that I will not have to opportunity to confront him personally, because I truly believe we are at a crossroads. I may only be in town for one day, today, but I am scheduled to be here again in few weeks. What if I've damaged our friendship beyond repair with my doubts and selfish desires? I haven't reached out to him in so long because I knew I could not stomach it if I saw rejection or repulsion in his eyes. However, the theory 'better to not know' has lost credibility with each passing day.

Gradually the lights dip and the music begins to swell. Zechs looks briefly toward the stage, then to the area I assume to be the restrooms, before finally sitting down again.

In that moment it occurs to me that Duo might have been here long enough and imbibed enough to warrant a trip to the facilities. It's entirely possible that more than an hour has passed. He had left minutes before I reached his office, but my own subsequent departure had been impeded by the greetings and well wishes of multiple acquaintances. Calling, and waiting for, a taxi had further delayed my arrival at the club.

It is with renewed hope that I move closer to the area where I believe the restrooms to be. If he is in there, it might make this encounter easier. Even if the worst were to happen, Duo would no more want to make a scene than I would. Catching him away from the group of his friends and coworkers would allow me to assess his true reaction without having to deduce it from the public persona he so often hides behind.

My new position puts me next to a hallway that does, indeed, lead to the bathrooms. I glance down the empty hall, seeing only a bank of payphones and doors labeled 'Ladies' and 'Gents'. A momentary internal debate ends with the decision to wait for Duo to return to the party rather than seeking him out now. Much less awkward, I would think.

My place also allows me to see that there is a sizable bar tucked up and out of the way, set back far enough to be completely invisible from the entryway. The bar appears to be L-shaped, the long base of the L running parallel to the exterior wall, ending somewhere out of view up against the hallway to my right.

Several men and a few women pass me by on the way back to their tables. Others have come and gone from ordering drinks at the bar. As the minutes pass, I begin to lose hope again and wonder if I shouldn't just abandon my post. Was I always this easily dissuaded? This easily disillusioned? No, I would not have survived the events of my past had I been so quick to lose hope. I really need to think this through. I wonder if it might not be more efficient to simply approach Zechs' party and ask after Duo. I've just about convinced myself it's my only option when a man steps into view from the other side of the wall. He waves back towards the bar, saying goodbye to the bartender who is now walking toward the far end of the bar. I had not seen this man, had not heard him talking to the bartender. It makes me wonder just what else I've not noticed in that little corner of the bar.

I get my answer in a blood surging rush as I clear the corner of that damned hallway. Sitting on the very last stool, tucked up against the crook made by the bar and the wall, is the very target of my search.

I lean against the wall next to me just staring at his back as relief floods through me in pounding waves. For better or for worse, I will have my answers. I will know, before the night was out, what lies in store for our friendship. Duo is nothing if not honest with me and he will not shy away from sharing his opinions.

I think his absence from the group of party-goers is what had truly puzzled me, maybe it's what has kept me so off-balance since I arrived. Once Duo commits to something, he rarely deviates from it and I'd had confirmation that he'd left the with the express purpose of attending the party. But truth be told, while it /is/ odd – almost inconceivable – there is always the slightest chance that it might happen. He is also as unpredictable as he is committed. Heh. Committed. If he could read my mind he'd probably rejoin that most days he should be.

I come up behind him without drawing his attention. No matter, he seems to be enthralled by the contents of his glass. "Is this seat taken?"

I sense, more than see, the change in his posture. His aggravation at the question is so obvious, I'm surprised he doesn't pinch the bridge of his nose. Guess I'm not the first one to ask. Hopefully I'll be the last. "I'm a guy."

Oh, yes, of that there is no doubt in my mind. I know just how much of a 'guy' you are, thank you. I've felt it, held it in my hands, kissed and sucked at it. Yes, Duo Maxwell, long hair notwithstanding, you are definitely all man. And I ache with the memory of it. "I know. May I sit?"

He grants me permission with a wave of his hand as I take the seat to his left. Now that I can see him in profile, I notice that his eyes are closed. Maybe he's tired. More likely he is less than thrilled with the evening's activities – he has never been inclined to frequent strip bars – but his continued friendship with Zechs likely leaves him no option but to grin and bear it. Maybe I can offer him an alternative.

I summon the bartender with a wave. "Scotch, neat, single malt. And a… Jack and Ginger for my friend," I say when I have the man's attention.

"Heero?" I watch the shock overtake him as his eyes open and he turns to face me. There is no anger in his face, no sadness, no regret. At least not yet. I hope it's not just the surprise of seeing me here.

"It's good to see you, too, Duo." Truer words have never been spoken. His continued awe, and I hope delight, at my presence makes me relax in turn. The bartender sets two glasses before us and I take a drink, covering the deep breath I need to keep my excitement in check.

"My God! What- What are you doing here?"

I have to laugh, "I could ask you the same." Though fundamentally ludicrous for two gay men to be where we are, that's not what he means.

"I- I just can't believe it. I didn't know you were supposed to be in town."

Ah. That's Duo Maxwell for you, straight to the heart of the matter. Perhaps the shock that has dulled his reaction is starting to wear off. I smile, trying to keep things light, if only for a little while. "I wasn't; I'm not. I shouldn't be here for another two weeks."

"Wha-? You were coming and you hadn't told me?"

He turns to his drink and sips at it distractedly, Duo is not entirely happy. Some of his earlier tension is back. I wish I knew what he's thinking, he could easily be working himself into a fit of anger. I try to placate him.

"I was going to call you next week, let you know once the dates were firm. Something came up; had to rearrange my schedule. I flew in just for the day."

"Oh." He seems to consider that, but I can't tell if my comment makes things better or worse, and my own tension is rising again. Either I'm loosing the ability to read him or he's shielding himself tightly. "Hey, how'd you know where I was?"

The suddenness of his question catches me off guard, but my answer tumbles out of me anyway. "I dropped by your office, saw the flyer. Seems I just missed you." An image of the flyer I'd found on his desk threatens to make me laugh. He'd taken to altering the text, making the wording of the invitation vulgar and adding impolite commentary on the nature of the entertainment between the lines. "This event wasn't your doing, was it?"

"Hardly!" he roll eyes at that but seems to find something vaguely amusing. "I gotta admit, though, I think it's the first time I've wholeheartedly supported Wufei's position on any matter in the last three years."

Laughter in response to that comment bursts from me unchecked. He and Wufei are notorious for their arguments. At times I've wondered if Duo takes an opposing position to anything the other man says just so they can argue. Someone had once described their constant bickering akin to 'marital bliss'. It made me as uncomfortable then, as it does now. I pretend to take interest in the party-goers in an effort to stave off these thoughts. Duo being linked that way with anyone is at the root of most my doubts and fears. I need to stop thinking this way; I can't keep letting these doubts rule me. He's still sitting next to me, and though I may be having a hard time reading him, at least we're still talking.

I see him turn as well and wonder if there's any chance that we'll get to the topic that's been plaguing me. I'd really rather not have to ask if having sex with him one-hundred-eighty-four days ago has ruined our friendship. If at all possible, I'd also prefer not to have to explain why I haven't called him in as long. 'I didn't have the balls to face you' just doesn't seem like the right thing to say. If only looking at him didn't make me yearn so to touch him.

Realizing suddenly that I'm staring at him breaks my train of thought and I try to cover by turning back for my drink. I end up just facing him though, so at least I can watch him over the rim of my glass.

He smiles but it's a little strained. I think he'd noticed me staring. "When do you leave?" There's a hint of challenge to his question. Maybe he has questions of his own to get answered.

"Tomorrow, 4pm flight. I have a walk-through at nine and… an appointment at one."

The next thing out of his mouth really throws me, "Where you staying?"

I try to cover my surprise by taking a drink; I can only meet his eyes for a moment before looking away. My initial reaction is to answer 'with you'. Am I that transparent? I had hoped we could stay together again, but is his question implying an offer, or just the opposite? "It was very last minute. Didn't have time to set something up."

I hold my breath as he seems to consider that. "Then don't. Casa de Maxwell always has a vacancy."

The relief that rushes through me is almost overwhelming and my hand reaches for him without my consent before I force it to detour. I need to exert better control of myself. "Thanks Duo."

His response is almost immediate, "You're more than welcome, Heero."

I have to wonder if the more formal phrasing is one of those quirks that occasionally appear in his speech patterns or if it means something. The slight smile I see hiding behind his glass makes it hard to decide.

Like the coward I seem to have become, I turn from his scrutiny and he mirrors me perfectly. Was that a hint? An implication? Am I more than welcomed to invade his life again? Even after what I caused to happen the last time? Has he forgiven me? Did he ever think there was something to forgive? I find myself looking at him again, trying to puzzle out what's going on inside his head. I can only hope that his words do reflect his thoughts.

'More than welcome.' Dare I believe it?

I am suddenly overcome with a desire to end this. Not this thing that could be between us, but this guessing game. I want to get out of here and talk plainly with him. "Does this… party have an end time?"

"It ends when you say it does."

He doesn't seem surprised by my inquiry and again I'm at a loss. "Shouldn't you stay?"

"Nope." Duo up-ends his glass, draining it, and signals the bartender that he wants the bill. "I was looking for an excuse to leave early. You've given me an excellent one. And anyway, Zechs knows titty bars are not my scene."

His actions can only be interpreted one way. He has no intention of staying and if he goes, I go. That much is clear. I follow his lead and finish off my drink as I stand. Not really wanting to delay our departure any longer, I make a few quick calculations. There is no way he could have drank all that much in the time he's been here; a fifty should more than cover the tab. I make sure the bartender sees the money so he doesn't think we're skipping out.

Finally, he stands too, reaching for my hand and lacing his fingers through mine. His palm is warm and comforting against me. Then he smiles again. Tempered heat flashes through me – I'd only thought I'd known what warmth was.

"Come on, let's go," he says in a tone so welcoming it is a balm on my soul. Now I know everything will be alright.

The End.

BM092106


End file.
